Post 436: The Day After the Wedding.
It’s not often I can say I’ve eaten lots, but this weekend has been a cracker. Ha ha.
My Darling is in a lot of pain after her accidental injury on the dance floor, which has escalated into a major walking problem.
Her right calf has clearly torn something, and there’s no way she could have gone to work today—nor tomorrow, actually. But while our guests are still here and heading into town, I’ll ask them to pick up a compression bandage for her. Hopefully that, along with the ice packs every couple of hours, will ease the aches and pains.
Rest, I suspect, will help more than anything.
I really can’t see her going back to work tomorrow.
As for the rest of the house, Mr Vicious, the cat, has been a delightful host.
He rarely minds being picked up and has become a firm favourite with my daughter-in-law, who can cuddle him to her heart’s content without needing Savlon and plasters afterwards.
Our guests are quietly happy to be here, and we’re so pleased to have them.
It’s simply that they live so far away. We miss them in every way.
With the news from our youngest arriving just in time for this wedding, the word has spread quickly around the family, and I’m in heaven.
Long gone are the fears I once had of disappearing from this world without another generation following behind us.
Now there will be little feet chasing us, growing under our watchful eyes.
I honestly feel I could live longer just because there’s a baby on the way.
How silly is that?
I’m simply having a wonderful time at the moment, and long may it continue.
The youngsters get dressed up again and head into town, while My Darling and I loaf about at home.
It’s been decided that tonight will be curry night for anyone who wants one—and, as it turns out, everyone does.
I’ll stick with my pizza and another tin of fish.
I love it.
It’s strange how quickly my diet has changed.
Those little tins of fish have become one of my favourite sources of protein.
I’m still not especially hungry, but this weekend has certainly been full of food, cake and gummy sweets.
I’m also thankful that the temperature has finally cooled down and the air feels breathable again.
That suits everyone.
If only it had happened twenty-four hours earlier, it might have saved a few sweaty underarms on the big day.
Still, the day itself was wonderful.
Little by little, the photographs have been appearing from friends and the wedding party on social media.
There’s one brilliant photograph of our family—our children, partners and the little bump—that has instantly become one of my treasured possessions.
Oh my, how good that feels.
A permanent reminder of such a lovely day, standing alongside a beautiful bride, her handsome husband, and the rest of the family.
Wonderful.
The only slight spoiler for me came when someone I hadn’t seen for years—a school friend of my sister’s from a lifetime ago—recognised me because I look so much like my dad.
I was standing beside my son at the time, and she immediately said, “That’s definitely your son.”
Then she smiled and added that I was the image of my father.
It should have been a lovely thing to hear.
Instead, I found myself feeling strangely unsettled.
The feelings were mixed, and, if I’m honest, rather unfair.
Deep down, I wanted to be recognised simply as me.
A man in his own right.
Not just somebody’s son.
There… I’ve said it.
Why do I let a tiny crack appear in what was otherwise such a wonderful day?
Why do I still carry these complicated feelings about a dad who’s been gone for so long?
It’s not fair on him.
And perhaps it isn’t fair on me either.
So let’s wipe the slate clean.
Dad did his best.
He always gave us room to become ourselves.
Sorry, Dad.
The curry later that evening was a triumph for everyone concerned.
The takeaway arrived without a single mistake and smelled absolutely wonderful.
My homemade fish pizza was all I needed, and I happily demolished it.
I even pinched a couple of pieces of tikka chicken from My Darling’s plate after she’d had enough.
Now that hasn’t happened for years.
Perhaps my appetite really is coming back.
I’m feeling healthy, happy and motivated.
I want to write that book.
I just need to settle on its purpose.
Who am I writing it for?
Why am I writing it?
Those answers aren’t easy to find, but I know they’re essential if I’m going to make real progress.
So, take care.
Good night.
